by Karen Frost
Chapter Eleven
Pursuit
"Alcide, what was the battle for Arres?" Maude asked curiously.
After having listened to the beasts' council, she had forgotten that she and Jack had meant to tell Alcide and Aldair about the trolls. The white leopard led the children to the fire on the right side of the room. It burned with a comforting orange glow that reminded Maude of home. Maude crawled onto one of the two intricately carved wooden chairs that sat before it and swung her little feet absentmindedly, since they did not reach to the floor. Archipel lay down comfortably beside the chair just clear of her feet, while Jack sat in the other chair. Alcide sat directly before the fire, her fierce eyes watching them.
"And who is Prince Aitor?" Maude added.
"It is a long story, from the time of men, would you like to hear it?" Alcide asked.
Maude nodded, so Alcide continued, "Prince Aitor was the eldest son of the first king of Devorian. His father, King Qasren, had been fighting for twenty years to unite all of Devorian into one kingdom. Before him, Devorian had been ruled by many kings, each master over only a small part of the land. Qasren sought to conquer each of the small kingdoms and create a single large kingdom.
'He fought and defeated the kings one by one until at last only one king remained; he was the most powerful of Devorian's many kings, and he refused to surrender. After a year of fighting in which Qasren's army pushed him further and further south, he chose to make his final stand at Arres, a vast plain surrounded on three sides by deep forests. He determined that by this single battle the war would be won or lost, for he would fight no longer. King Olyph had three times as many troops as Qasren, but Qasren's army was led by the peerless Prince Aitor, a fierce and valiant warrior.
'The battle started poorly for Qasren, and it looked as though he would lose. Some of Qasren's men threw down their swords and ran, believing that all was lost, but most continued to fight, dealing desperate blow after desperate blow against the enemy. At midday, Qasren called to Aitor, who he had kept from battle for fear that he would lose his favorite son, and asked him to take the field. Aitor put on his great armor, which was too heavy for any other man to bear, and hefted his giant battleaxe over his shoulder. He rode to the front of the lines, shouting challenges at Olyph's men.
'When the horns of war sounded, Aitor and his guard of young noblemen charged fearlessly into battle. For hours they fought tirelessly, felling men as easily as a scythe cuts through sheaves of wheat. Aitor cut so deeply into Olyph's lines that Qasren's soldiers could no longer see him. They could only see the white plume on his crest as it bobbed above the enemy. Seeing this gave them heart to continue fighting. Olyph's army fell back and retreated further and further. Qasren's men began to believe that they would win soon, but then reinforcements arrived from the south and Olyph's soldiers rallied.
'Both sides fought fiercely, but the enemy's numbers were overwhelming. Like a great hand, Olyph's forces pushed Qasren's army back until they stood once more where they had started, all the ground that they had just won now lost. Qasren's men were exhausted, and now discouraged as well. They could no longer see the white plume that had led them on like a beacon. This was because as the army retreated, Prince Aitor, who in the press of battle had lost his direction and unknowingly had begun pushing to the west, became cut off with only a few brave men at his side. Aitor and his companions found now themselves among the trees of the forest with the enemy closing in around them.
'Numbering only twenty and surrounded by more than a hundred of Olyph's knights, they prepared for what they believed would be their last stand. As they said their farewells to each other, however, Prince Aitor remembered that he carried with him the Horn of Duhaim. The beautifully carved horn was said in popular legend to have belonged to a magical white bull. Qasren himself had taken it from the treasury of one of the kings he had conquered and given it to Aitor. It was so old that no one believed it carried true magic, but Aitor always kept it with him for luck."
"Aitor pulled the white horn from its case at his side, held it to his lips, and blew with all his strength. He blew long and hard until he could blow no more, hoping that some of Qasren's troops were nearby and, hearing it, would come to his aid. The sound that came from the horn was like no sound any of the soldiers had ever heard before. Rather than the throaty bellow of a hunting horn, this sound was like the tinkling of small bells, or the trill of harp strings plucked by skilled hands. The sound seemed to grow and fill the hollow where they stood, a hauntingly beautiful tune that spoke at once of sorrow, loss, hope, and triumph.
'Olyph's knights stopped for a minute, mesmerized by the sound, but then they drew their swords and encircled the prince and his soldiers. Suddenly, there was a great cracking and creaking. The leaves on the forest trees began to shiver and then to sway as their branches shifted and moved. The trees ripped their roots from the ground and, waving their branches like arms, attacked the enemy soldiers. The hundred knights were thrown high in the air or cast down upon the earth, or crushed beneath the great weight of the old trees as they walked on their roots like feet. All around Aitor the trees came to life and smashed the enemy like kindling, but they touched neither Aitor nor his men.
'Aitor watched in amazement, unable to speak or move. Each tree was more powerful than ten men, and they could not be stopped even though the enemy hacked at them with swords and spears. The fight was short, and when it was over only Aitor and his men remained. They dared not move for fear of the trees, but when at last they did, they saw that the trees moved no more; they stood just as they had at the final moment of battle, their branches extended like powerful arms and their gnarled roots grasping the ground like talons. A brave soldier dared to touch the bark of one, but all the life had gone out of the trees.
'So it was that the tide of battle was turned, for Olyph lost many of his best knights in the wood, and Aitor lived to lead his father's army to victory. Olyph's kingdom was absorbed by Qasren to complete the unification of Devorian, and the place where the trees came to life was renamed the Twisted Forest in honor of what had happened there. Indeed, those very same trees that came to Aitor's assistance hundreds of years ago can be found there even today."
"That is a very old tale indeed," Archipel said once Alcide had finished. "While I have seen the Twisted Forest with my own eyes, I did not know the story of how the trees had come to look as they do. Many of the tales from the age of men have been lost with time. How did you come to hear this one?"
Alcide replied, with amusement in her voice, "I know because I was present at the battle myself. During the infancy of man, when he was young and in need of tutelage, the magical beasts still walked the land. Sometimes openly, sometimes cloaked by magic. This is how it is that sometimes we appear as characters in the tales of men. Indeed, is it not through these tales, passed down to you as legend, that you animals know of us at all though no animal had ever seen a magical beast before these last few days?"
Maude, who had been considering the story, said slowly with a frown, "But if the power of the horn was that it could bring trees to life, what if Aitor hadn't been in a forest?"
"The horn of Duhaim does not merely awaken trees," Alcide explained. "The horn gives whoever blows it whatever he or she most needs at that moment."
She added, "However, each person can only use the horn one time. Once a king of Devorian's ship began to sink far from shore. The sailors could not bail the sea out as quickly as it rushed back in. All one hundred men would be lost if the ship sank below the waters, for they were completely without hope of rescue. The king, who carried the horn with him, blew it and a giant whale emerged from the deepest waters to carry the ship back to shore. All were saved.
'Many years later, the same king became separated from his nobles during a hunt. He rode through the forest for hours until he found a stream and stopped to drink. Suddenly his horse bolted, leaving him helpless. The king heard crashing in the woods, and a troll appeared. The king b
lew the horn of Duhaim, but it would not sound, and he was killed."
"Where did the horn come from?" Maude asked.
"The horn belonged to Duhaim, one of the first magical beasts in Devorian. Duhaim was a teacher to the humans, and he loved them as though they were his children. When he chose to pass over, he gifted them a single horn, which was imbued with all his magic," Alcide said.
"Where is the horn now?"
"Lost," Alcide said sadly. "It has not been seen for centuries."
Aldair moved behind them, his hooves clicking against the stone floor. He said, "Now, children, I think it is time for you to go to bed. It is late, and you have had a taxing journey."
"But what about…" Jack began to protest, thinking of all he had seen and heard that day.
"Tomorrow," Alcide said gently.
Maude slipped off her chair and Aldair allowed her to lean against his shimmering gold body as he led her towards the door by which she, Jack, and Archipel had entered. She was so tired she could barely stand on her feet. Archipel supported her on her other side as she listed to the left like a sailboat in a strong wind. Just then, Timab scuttled into the room. He stood on his hind legs before Alcide, barely six inches tall, and she dropped her head to meet him.
Timab squeaked urgently, "Your graces, a word."
Aldair nudged Maude softly with his nose in the direction of the door, saying "Go now, child. All will be well."
